a stroll in the forest
by Septemius
Summary: george takes a little walk away from celebrations after the last battle


**so I was walking to lunch one day and i had a sudden insperation to write this. i honestly hadnt read it anywhere else but when I checked i noticed someone had written someting similar, but I honestly did not copy. **

**and obviously im not jk rowling or else id give my writings to a publisher as opposed to some silleh fanfic site :**

**sry if it is really corny and annoying --**

George walked slowly across Hogwarts grounds. The empty feeling that had been threatening to overwhelm him finally had. He desperately needed to leave. He needed to walk far away from all of the celebrations and happiness. He couldn't pretend to be glad that Vodlemort had finally been destroyed; he had taken his other half with him. There would be no more joking away the depression this time.

He walked through the grounds passing the lake, the Qudditch field, all of the places that held his memories of school. The problem was that no memory could help him forget, for every one contained what he was missing. They were innumerable; the amount of memories collecting on the edge of his mind. The sheer force of them fighting to be remembered made George dizzy. The uncomprehending amount of feeling forced him into the opposite, into a stupor. Only half formed thoughts came spinning through his mind. There was nothing, only the sadness from the loss of his brother, his best friend, his business partner, his everything.

He needed somewhere to go. Somewhere he could just go and not be found by anyone. He decided on the forest, once forbidden by the rules provided for his safety. He cared no longer for the well being of his body. He would actually welcome an attack so his mind could flow freely and find Fred, wherever he was now. They had never regarded the rules before. Fred and him had been in that forest loads. They knew it well. He proceeded into the trees, his legs guiding him, his mind in a dream like state. The forest was silent seeing as the inhabitants had either been driven out or fought in that last battle. He walked on and on. He was now far enough in so that no one could see him from the castle, but not so far that the trees grew too close together and blocked out the light. The beams from the new sun were shining through the canopy of leaves, creating wispy shadow patterns on his body. He slowly turned taking in his surroundings. Through his tears he saw a glint of light on the forest floor. Walking over he crouched down to see what was on the ground.

It was a ring. The dark stone was set into an old gold band. Most peculiar though was that there was a crack running straight through the center. The crack was so perfect it almost looked as if it was meant to be there, but instinctively he knew it hadn't been created that way. He could feel that the ring's life was embedded deep in wizard history. For a few seconds curiosity almost let his forget why he was there in the first place. Then suddenly his misery became so overwhelming and he caved in to it. It washed over him as hot tears poured down his face. How could he not think about what had happened, who he wanted to see most in the world?

Then unexpectedly he heard the invisible swish of a cloak. He raised his face slowly, afraid to find out whom had come for him, who had ruined his bloody mourning. He slowly turned, yet no amount of bracing himself could have prepared himself for this. It was Fred. He almost dropped the ring in shock but caught it at the last second.

Fred laughed, "Come on don't be a prat." A sheepish smile was growing over his face. George's sobbing stopped as suddenly as it had started. He slowly approached his twin; he felt a bewildered joy inching into his body. In the back of his mind something clicked. He remembered the bedtime stories his mother had read to them when they were small. He remembered how one told of a death defying stone. A small part of his brain that part of the moral of the story was man with the stone was miserable. He pushed this depressing thought aside and thought of his amazing luck. A death defying stone! He knew that this solution wasn't perfect but he clung to his last hope.

"Fred, you have no idea how relieved I am. Now we can go back to he castle and you can talk to mum and-"

"George!" Fred now looked slightly alarmed, "You and I both know it can't work like that."

"Then what can I do?!… I'll just have to die then I dunno…" He started pacing desperately. "Were, where's my wand?"

"Bloody hell George have you gone mad?" His sheepish smile has quite vanished "I was the one who always made the rash decisions, now that I've left you can't go all wonky on everyone!"

"That's easy to say seeing as your dead. You don't have to watch all your family mourn, you don't have to go on with out your bloody twin brother!"

They stood there for a bit, simply staring at each other, and then suddenly Fred's almost transparent eyes filled with tears. "I'm so sorry, I could never live with the fact that I caused you to end your life."

"Well it's lucky then that you're dead." George responded cracking a small smile.

"See George that's why you have to stay. You need to keep everyone's spirits up. What would they do with out you? Who would run the joke shop?"

"I don't know how I'm going to do it with out you." they slowly approached each other and hugged.

"We'll meet again." and then almost silently so George wasn't quite sure he heard, "I love you."

George felt his hands go weak and he dropped the ring. Fred silently faded leaving no trace that he had ever been.

George knew if he used it wisely the ring could be helpful. It hadn't even crossed his mind to us it to see anyone else that had perished. Seeing Fred was the only thing that mattered, however occasionally it had to be to keep his sanity. He looked down at the ring lying on the ground. He knew what someone like Dumbledore would tell him to do, but he also knew exactly what his brother would do if they had traded places. He picked the stone up, shined it with his sleeve a bit and then with a very Fred like flourish placed the ring in his breast pocket.

It would be a flat out lie to say that George still wasn't depressed. But it was better now; he had a tiny, but strong, glimmer of hope. It lay, right over his heart, incased in his breast pocket.

"Yes we'll meet again Fred, and sooner than you think."


End file.
